Eternal
by Purple Sky Juliet
Summary: Francis visits Jeanne's grave on her 600th birthday.


The air was crisp and cold. His breath swirled in the air as he walked down the path, past rows and rows of gravestones and cemetery plots. It had snowed earlier in the week, but most of the snow had since melted. He stopped in front of a gravestone and smiled distantly to himself, wiping the small pile of snow off the rock, clearing it from the engraved letters reading "Jeanne Romée Bonnefoy." Just as she had requested in her last letter to him. "In case I do not come back," she'd written, "please put your name on my grave as well, my love. Yours always, Jeanne."

They'd thrown her remains into the Seine, and she had no true grave. He'd bought a large plot at a cemetery in Orleans. A place to mourn. To think about her. Someone had said that a grave would bring him closure, so he could move on. But he knew he would never forget and move on from Jeanne. He'd buried a dress she'd left in her quarters in the coffin, along with a few mementos. The rest he kept for himself in his home in Paris. He finished clearing the snow and set down the bouquet of red roses at the foot of the headstone.

"_Bon anniversaire, mon amour_." He lay down on the ground so that his head was next to her headstone and stared at the sky. "I'm sorry I did not come sooner," he said. "There was a conference in Paris, and you know how those things go, and I…." He broke off and sighed. "I hope you are doing well, Jeanne." He closed his eyes and rested his hand across them. The cool breeze blew across his face, and after it disappeared, he opened his eyes.

A girl in a white dress was crouched next to him, her short blonde hair settling after being blown by the breeze. He turned his face toward her and smiled. She was smiling back, her blue eyes shining brilliantly at him. He sat up and cupped her cheek before pushing his lips against hers.

"Happy birthday, Jeanne," he said as he pulled away. He stroked her cheek affectionately as she smiled and tipped her face into his touch.

"_Merci_, Francis."

"I miss you," he whispered. Jeanne reached up and took his hand from her cheek and intertwined their fingers.

"I know, _ma cher_, I miss you terribly as well."

"Someday, we can be together again, Jeanne," Francis said, looking out to the sky before meeting her eyes again. "In heaven, or whatever place there is after death."

Jeanne laughed softly and shook her head. "Oh, Francis, you know France will never die."

"It is possible. We…we can die."

Jeanne shook her head and put a thin finger over his lips. "You're too much of a romantic, Francis. Speak nothing of death. France must never die. You will live on."

"Sometimes, one cannot live with the choice he has made." He gulped. Jeanne shushed him and wrapped her arm around him. He pressed his face into her shoulder, his arms tightening around her waist. Hot tears pricked in his eyes and flowed out from his eyelids.

"Do not cry, _ma amour_. I do not blame you. It would have happened eventually. I was only human, Francis; I would not have lived until today regardless. Humans do not live 600 years. Darling, you have my eternal love, remember that. Love never dies." She kissed his forehead and his wet, closed eyelids. He opened his eyes, but she was gone. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.

He stood slowly and walked to her gravestone. Crouching in front of the stone, he traced the letters of her name, smiling sadly to himself. He leaned forward and kissed the stone.

"You have my eternal love as well, Jeanne."

**Author's Notes:**

**An entry for a contest on Deviantart. The song I based this off of was "Lucy" by Skillet. It's a really beautiful song, so I recommend you check it out if you haven't heard it!**

**I apologize for my awful French. Yes, I am in French III. Yes, I have an A+. No, I don't know French. My teacher is shit. All I really know is basic introductions and some pick-up lines. And how to say transvestite. **

**Anyway.**

**Tell me what you thought! I'd love to get some feedback!**


End file.
